A tangled web
by sarbey
Summary: Life is made of decisions and the paths we choose for ourselves, but sometimes we have to look deeper to see the dots that connect us with each other. A lection House and Cameron will soon learn, too. Hameron
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** Not sure where to go with this. Just an idea. I'm not apologizing for any cliches in the story and I'm afraid there'll be a lot of them. this plot is so predictable :-) Disclaimer is in my profile.

Summary: Cameron's mother dies and she has to face a past she would rather forget, meanwhile House gets a visit from his old mentor who is looking for his long lost daughter. Like I said, predictable. ;-)

Enjoy!

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The landlord turned the key in the lock and opened the door to a past she though she'd buried once and for all. A dark and dirty hallway greeted her, graffiti adorning the walls.

He led her to the stairs, probably not trusting the rusty elevator, though the out of order sign might have had something to do with that.

The steps creaked under their feet and she found herself unwillingly drowning in memories long forgotten.

_Running to catch the elevator, mummy would be angry if she wasn't there on time._

_An angry voice yelling at her…"you're worthless, can't even take care of your brother for a few hours."_

_Glass shattering, her blood on the carpet…_

Her little brother crying in his crib… 

"Ms Cameron?"

The rusty voice pulled her back to the present and she cleared her throat.

"Actually, it's Mrs Cameron."

He smiled tiredly and motioned to her right, there it was, number 23, the door to a life she would rather not return to.

The landlord handed her the key, his slim, wrinkled fingers chilling her warm and smooth ones. He smiled sadly and nodded once, clearly remembering the scared little girl she had once been, slim and deadly pale.

Hesitantly she opened the door and entered, taking in the mess that had once been a neat two-room apartment. The smell was the worst, she decided, like something rotten, she would have to check the rooms for cadavers, she thought disgusted.

A small and cramped hallway lead to a bath, a kitchen, and two rooms. Careful not to touch anything, she made her way to the room that had once been hers.

_Trying to avoid the woman soundly asleep in the room down the hall she crept into the kitchen and opened the fridge as silently as possible._

_Empty coldness greeted her, two half empty bottles of vodka and leftovers that had probably changed into penicillin by now._

_She took some bread and hurried back to her room, cradling her broken arm close to her body._

_The ER at night, busy doctors and nurses, too busy to notice the frightened child sitting next to a neighbour in an uncomfortable plastic chair._

She entered the room that had once belonged to her, a small almost empty bedroom with only one window.

There was a wet spot on the ceiling and grey areas suspiciously looking like mould.

Her mother's belongings were scattered over the room, the few personal things she left long gone but she hadn't really expected any different.

A box on the single desk in the back caught her attention; she took it to the bed and sat down. Opening it, several old pictures fell on the floor under them she discovered some letters and different officially looking documents.

There was her birth certificate, Allison Elisabeth Clarke, daughter of Melinda and Edward Clarke; her mother had changed their names though, to Hannigan, after Edward Clarke's death.

She took the letters and started to read one. It was from her father, obviously written after her mother had already left him, taking young Allison with her, he'd died shortly after that.

"_Daddy, please, I wanna go for another ride on the Ferris wheel." He chuckled at his daughter's antics._

"_We've gone twice already. Your mother wants you back in half an hour._

_She grimaced at the thought of returning, she'd rather stay with her daddy, he was the best daddy in the whole wide world and she told him so. He smiled sadly and ruffled her hair._

"'_Fraid that's not possible, sweetheart." _

She smiled at the memory and suppressed a single tear, threatening to fall when something at the top of the letter caught her eye.

The date didn't fit.

It was set about half a year after his death. She took one of the other letters; the date was set two months after his supposed death in the car crash.

Hastily she shifted through the letters, opening random ones and reading the dates.

Most of them were written after the day, her mother had come into her room and coldly told her that her beloved father had died in an accident.

With shaking hands she took one of the letters, date one month after his death and started to read.

_Dear Mel,_

_Once again I ask for time with Allison. I have been granted at least two weekends a month, Melinda where are you? Your landlord said you had moved out two months ago and you didn't leave a new address._

_Please, I just want to see my daughter. I hope this letter reaches you._

_Contact me._

_Edward_

Carefully she put the short note back into the envelope and gathered the remaining letters. Putting them into her bag she hurried to the door, wanting to leave this hellhole as soon as possible.

It was time to get some answers.

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Well, yes, liked it, hated it, want me to relocate to antarctica and never write again? 


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** Seven reviews for the first chapter, wow. Thank you so much .Now, on with the story.

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Carefully manoeuvring the dangerously filled cup of coffee, Lisa Cuddy, empress of the prim and proper institution that was Princeton Plansborough Teaching Hospital, let out a satisfied sigh.

Completed paperwork, no meetings, only three weeks until Christmas and House safely stashed away at a two-days conference at the west coast, she was still proud of that one, made for one happy Dean this afternoon.

"Lisa Cuddy!" a bellowing voice from the hallway loudly exclaimed and interrupted the delicate task of sitting down while slowly placing the coffee on the desk, causing a good amount of the steaming liquid to spill over the neatly stashed charts from different parts of the hospital.

Cursing expressively she quickly took some paper napkins and tried to save at least some of the paperwork while sending one of her patented glares to the unwelcome intruder.

Her mood however quickly changed when she realized just who had interrupted her.

Coffee and charts forgotten she got up and greeted the visitor with a warm smile.

"Dr Clarke, that's a surprise" she was pulled into a tight hug, squeezing the air out of her lungs "how are you?"

About as tall as House, Edward Clarke was an impressive looking man, his once dark grey hair and full beard now completely white. She chuckled internally, remembering how House had always referred to him as the one with the pretty hair; a title the misanthropic diagnostician had later transferred to his fellow, Dr Chase.

"I'm fine, my dear, congratulations to this fine hospital you're running I always knew you would achieve a lot" he grinned " so, where's that cane yielding bastard who used to be my student, heard he's still tormenting everybody in plain sight."

Cuddy rolled her eyes at the mentioning of her at the moment least favourite department head and motioned Clarke to sit down.

"Actually, he's not here, I convinced him to give a lecture in Seattle and he won't be back for another day."

Her opponent raised a sceptical eyebrow. "You mean, you blackmailed him into doing something, he normally tries to avoid at all means, and on the other side of the country no less. I see you've learned quite a bit since the last time, I popped in for a visit, I'm proud, Lisa, really."

She smiled somewhat shyly at the praise from her former professor and leaned back in her chair.

"Got to keep up with him, he'll always be a handful, but I think I'm starting to learn how to use his mind games to my advantage. Give me one or two decades more and he'll finally do what I want. But let's hear, what are you doing here, Dr Clarke, business or pleasure?"

At her question his face fell and a shadow appeared in the corner of his usually sparkling and enigmatic green eyes.

"Neither, well maybe a bit of both, more like family, I have some personal things to take care of. Actually I hoped to get Greg's help for this, that's why I came. Seems I have to wait a bit, hm?"

She looked at him intensely, for a moment he had reminded her of somebody, she couldn't quite narrow it down; it was more of a gut feeling, just out of her reach. His expression changed again, he now smiled at her warmly. Before she could answer, the door to her office was rudely pulled open and a dishevelled James Wilson rushed in, not noticing her guest, he plopped down in a chair and breathed heavily.

"Lisa" he coughed once "I'm sorry for interrupting, but I really need your help."

He looked at her expectantly, noticing that she looked somewhat relaxed, unusual for her when she was at work until he remembered that she had sent House off to Seattle, which probably explained it.

Somebody clearing his throat next to him alerted him to the presence of the room's third occupant.

He turned his head and looked into amused, green eyes that belonged to an older, dignified looking man with a disturbingly mischievous expression on his face.

"James, I'm sure you remember Dr Clarke?"

He grinned in response. "Of course, how could I forget him? How are you?"

He extended his hand and was greeted enthusiastically.

"I'm great Dr Wilson. Heard you're a department head now, too, congratulations." Wilson nodded slightly and inconspicuously rubbed his hand, he was pretty sure he'd just lost a few arteries and nerve cells.

Blending out the conversation, taking place he regarded the white haired doctor for a moment. Edward Clarke had always been an unusual energetic man; he had a certain aura around him. Unlike House, he loved giving lectures and could charm an entire room full of pre med students into awed silence. But Wilson hadn't become the unofficial therapist for everyone associated with House if he hadn't been able to read people.

He could see the hidden nervousness lingering in the other man and he wouldn't be James Wilson if he weren't going to find out why.

"Dr Wilson?" Cuddy's voice startled him from his thoughts.

"I thought it would be nice if we give Dr Clarke a tour of the hospital, what do you think?"

He smiled in response. "Sure, I'd be happy to help."

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So, no moving to antarctica. Would be too cold anyway. :-) 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Ok. First of all, please don't kill me. I just got over the worst writers block and I would like to enjoy that for a while, thanks. Secondly, thanks for all of your reviews, you're great and I promise updates will come more often now that I know where to take this story again. Thanks for your patience. Oh and I try to write longer chapters, this one actually is, a bit longer I mean. Now enjoy!

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With a dead grip on his cane House tiredly shuffled into his office switching on the light.

Carelessly throwing his bag on a chair he stopped upon the unexpected sight that greeted him.

On the couch in his office, snoring softly, lay none other than his former professor and mentor, Edward Clarke.

His mind tried to wrap around the fact that he was here, in his office, instead of, well elsewhere, but after three hours in a cramped plane, stuck between a crying toddler and a chatty eighty years old lady with pink hair that was a bit too much even for him.

The figure of the older man stirred and Clarke seemed to be waking up. House limped over to his desk and plopped down in his comfortable chair.

He took his time to contemplate the appearance of the sleeping doctor, the crumpled clothes the now white hair and the lines on his face that seemed to have gotten visibly deeper since the last time he'd seen him.

A groan announced Clarke's return to the realms of reality and House grinned at the plops and cracks that sounded when the older man tiredly sat up.

"What a nice surprise professor!" House all but shouted at his former Mentor who screwed his eyes shut at the noise.

"Hell, turn town that voice of yours a few octaves, will ya? What the hell happened that got you in such a chipper mood at this ungodly hour?" Clarke asked tiredly.

As always when confronted with his former professor House found himself in a bit of a dilemma. Edward Clarke was one of the few people House didn't just respect but genuinely liked. He could never quite manage the bite in his smooth and well-delivered sarcastic quips around Clarke. Something always held him back. He'd actually found himself wanting the other man's approval during med school and if he was honest he still did.

Back then Clarke had been the father figure the young and cocky med student had desperately needed without even realising it and that had brought him one of the rare friendships he valued and cherished.

Clarke didn't make any attempt to leave his rather cosy spot on the couch and studied his former protégé instead taking in the rumpled clothes, five o'clock shadow and the huge bags under his eyes. "Tell me, Greg, how did you get into med school again? It seems every time I visit you've turned a bit more towards the antithesis of a doctor." He observed earning him a snort from House who opened the drawer of his desk instead of gracing that with an answer and pulled out a bottle of finest twenty years old single malt, a scotch and threw a questioning look to Clarke. "Fancy a drink?" He asked grinning while retrieving two glasses from his desk as well.

"Sure, why not. It's not like we're in a hospital or something like that. " Clarke quipped sarcastically and watched while House poured a generous amount of amber coloured liquid in the two glasses.

"So Ed" House began handing one glass to the older man, very well knowing that he was one of the few people who could get away with occasionally calling Clarke that, "what exactly brings you to our nice humble hospital?" He awkwardly shuffled back to his chair and plopped down, taking a sip of the dark liquid and savouring the feeling as it burned down his throat.

Clarke observed his behaviour with a chuckle and took a sip himself. "You're right, this is good stuff. As for your question…" He hesitated which roused House's curiosity. Edward Clarke lost for words, wasn't a sight you normally got to see.

"I have a favour to ask." Clarke began, nervous tension in his voice. "I need you to help me find my daughter and pick your jaw from the floor, Greg, that's not a very charming picture you're presenting," He added upon the sight of a dumbfounded looking Greg House. He was pretty sure not many people could get House to shut up and there were probably a lot of people at the hospital who would pay for seeing this.

House collected his thoughts that were currently running, wildly coming up with various ideas and scenarios, he couldn't help it but where the hell or more accurately when the hell had the other man acquired any children?

"Daughter?" He managed to croak out and Clarke nodded. He motioned him to continue not fully trusting his ability to form any coherent sentences just yet.

"I…I was married once, long before I began teaching. Mel was…it just didn't work out. For various reasons. We divorced, obviously. I got two weekends a month with my daughter, two weekends with my baby girl." He rubbed a hand over his face, "It wasn't enough, she always wanted to stay with me. I tried to get full custody but back then that was a lot more difficult for the father." He said taking a shaky breath. "A few month into our marriage they were gone. I came to take Ally for the weekend and they were gone, just like that. The landlord said Melinda didn't leave a new address and I was left wondering what the hell happened to my daughter."

Abruptly Clarke got up and went over to the window and stared into the night. His voice was strained with withheld tears when he began to speak again.

"I hired a private detective. He found them in L.A. and I sent Mel a letter. By the time I got there they were gone again. It went on like that for a while until one day he couldn't find them anymore." He stopped the following silence in the room almost deafening and House could see his shoulders strained with obvious tension. Clarke turned around and stared directly into his eyes, the raw display of pain almost causing House to stop breathing altogether.

"The thing is, about a week ago I got a call from said detective, over twenty years have passed but he still remembered me, can you imagine that? He told me he went through some old files for a case he works on and stumbled over an old process against a woman named Melinda Hannigan. Hannigan was her maiden name and…" he trailed off again and House got the feeling that there was still something left that was even worse but his former mentor didn't quite know how to say it.

"And what?" he inquired in a low voice bringing the other man back to the present.

"As a result of the process she lost custody of her children, seems she later had a son and went to jail."

"For what?" House inquired further.

"Attempted murder and child abuse."

House closed his eyes and let the words wash over him. That explained in fact a lot, he thought. The apprehension, the weariness and the opinion Clarke had displayed on marriages during his years in med school, hell if he was honest the other man had had next to his parents the most influence on his own opinion. The most successful marriages are based on lies, a life rule he had first heard from one Edward Clarke.

"Will you help me?" Clarke's voice pulled him from his reverie and he looked up. How could he possibly refuse after everything the older man had done for him? Besides Gregory House never turned down a puzzle and this one was just too promising to stay out of it.

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Next one is already half done, yay. Hope you still enjoy reading this. :-) 


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N** A look into the past. Hope to get the next chapter up before the weekend.

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_„Come on Allie, please hurry, I wanna eat now." Five-year-old Simon Hannigan whined impatiently. Allison shook his grabbing hand off and continued to stir the pot of chicken soup she had on the stove. "Not now, Simon. This has to be finished when mom comes home. Go and play something I'll call when we eat." Her little brother pouted but obedient as always he retreated to the kitchen table and continued to draw with the crayons she had given him for his last birthday. Carefully she took the soup and put it in the oven where it would be kept warm hopefully long enough until their mother returned from work._

_She snorted. Yeah, right. What her mother called working anyway. Tired she put away the cooking utensils and took a seat next to her brother who seemed to be lost in his own world, softly humming a random melody. She smiled when she recognized it; it was a little something she always played on her violin for him to put him to sleep in the evenings._

_"Simon?" her brother didn't seem to notice her and she tried it again, this time a bit louder. "Simon?" He still didn't look up and she put a hand on his shoulder causing him to jump slightly in his seat. As soon as he noticed her looking at him inquiringly he gave her that big cheeky smile that never failed to get him what he wanted with her but her heart constricted painfully at his earlier lack of response._

_About a few years ago she had started to read medical literature, starting with a book her father had left once and somewhere along the way reading had become her obsession. Reading and her violin her two sanctuaries in the little painful bubble she and her brother shared with their mother. She'd gotten the violin from one of their old neighbours along with her first lessons in exchange for some help in his household. Mr Cutter had been almost seventy years old and even if he couldn't walk properly anymore his hearing and wit had been still sharp as ever and he enjoyed teaching her the wonders of classical music. Thankfully until this day she had managed to keep all this from her mother who spent almost every evening in the local bars trying to find a new looser to hold her out for a while. At lest it gave them some additional money._

_The books she got from the library that was only two streets away. She had a membership card and everything and the elderly lady who always sat at the reception liked her so she could come after hours too._

_And thanks to her devouring medical literature she knew that it definitely wasn't normal for a five year old to be that unresponsive to somebody sitting that near to him. He should have heard her, she mused, she had long since harboured some suspicions about his hearing, it didn't really help that he'd had at least two ear infections that she knew of that had gone untreated and she prayed to a god she didn't really believe in anymore that her suspicions wouldn't be confirmed._

_The front door opened and her mother's uneven steps confirmed what she had suspected all along._

_'Drunk again' she thought disgusted and picked up her brother carrying him down the small hallway to his bedroom. She had vowed at his birth that she would never let him become her mother's punching bag and she had succeeded so far. Simon giggled as she put him down between the faded superman sheets of his bed and she covered him gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead. She smiled at him and motioned him to stay silent his yawn clearly showing that it wouldn't take him long to fall asleep._

_She stood up and went to the door taking in his almost sleeping form beneath the covers. He was a cherub, a wonder in her eyes. So young and innocent, warm and trusting green eyes so much like her own and slightly wavy light brown hair that she never quite managed to cut appropriately now matter how hard she tried._

_"Allison" her mother screeched from the kitchen and she cringed at the harsh sound. Silently she closed the door and turned the key in the lock, the one her mother didn't know existed, and put it in her pocket._

_"Allison, where the hell are you?" Melinda Hannigan's voice grew impatient._

_"I'm here, I'm here. Calm down." She returned to the kitchen and took in her mother's appearance. Dishevelled clothing, smeared make up and foul breath, adding the sour look on her face it didn't seem as if she'd had any luck that night._

_Her mother eyed her suspiciously while she took the soup from the oven and poured a bit onto a plate._

_"Sit down, mum. Eat something." Her mother plopped down at the table and for a moment Allison was mesmerized at how old she looked in the harsh light of the lamp over them._

_"Stupid girl, gimme the soup already." She put the plate down and watched while the woman slurped down the soup messily._

_"Mom?" she asked hesitantly._

_Her mother didn't answer just grunted something incomprehensible._

_She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the storm she was sure would follow at her next question._

_"Could I have some more money this month?"_

_"Why would you need more, I gave you as much as every month, didn't I?"_

_"Yeah, but…"_

_Melinda narrowed her eyes and stopped eating._

_'Shit' she thought 'not good.'_

_"Did you spent it already? What have I told you about wasting my money? I'm working my ass of trying to feed you and that little parasite and you're wasting my money." Her voice grew louder and she stood up abruptly the chair clattering to the ground and smacking into the kitchen counter._

_She grabbed her daughter by the arm and dragged her behind her out of the room and to the front door. A slap sent Allison to the floor and she knew she would have to come up with a creative idea to explain the bruise that would be forming, the next few days._

_Opening the door she shoved her daughter into the dirty hallway._

_"Here, maybe that will teach you not to waste money again" and she slammed the door shut again leaving her in the darkness._

_Sighing Allison pressed her forehead to the cool wooden door. She knew she would have to wait at least two hours until her mother would be drunk enough to pass out somewhere and she could sneak back in but not before having to humiliate herself in front of the landlord pretending she had locked herself out again even though most people in the house probably knew what was going on in apartment 23. She crouched down on the stairs and leaned against the wall while her fingers played with the key in her pocket._

_'Someday' she thought tiredly 'someday I'm going to get us both out of here' were her last coherent thoughts before she dozed off against the wall._

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A huge thanks to all of your reviews, you guys rock! (always wanted to say, or write that) Hope you liked this one too. :-) 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N First of all, a huge thanks to everyone who reviewed, secondly sorry for being awol for so long, life seems to get in the way of writing lately and I really should be studying for the second part of my finals right about, oh now. Well I guess I got sidetracked after my dear little sister did exactly the same thing House does in the first part of this chapter to get my attention. Anyway, hope you're still enjoying this and I hope that after next week I really get to write more again.

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Wilson was worried.

It was too quiet.

House had been back for a few hours and should be aware of Clarke's presence in the hospital by now.

Which was the reason Wilson was fully prepared to deal with a full on House attack of whining and biting sarcasm. Or was it whining sarcasm?

House' behaviour around his former professor was a sight to behold, somehow the cranky diagnostician had a bit of a problem to maintain his usual insulting self around the older man and in order to deal with that he normally retreated to being even nastier to everyone else.

But after two hours House still hadn't come to complain and making Wilson pay for his lunch so understandable he was worried.

'Thud'

What the hell. Had somebody just thrown something against the door to the balcony?

'Thud'

There it was again. Pushing back his chair he hastily got up and pulled the door open in order to catch the culprit though he had a pretty strong suspicion as to his identity.

He was met with something warm and wet hitting him point blank between the eyes.

"House!" he shouted having correctly identified his attacker who was lazily sitting in one of his chairs, a cup of coffee next to him and what looked like little paper balls in his lap. He was currently soaking one in the coffee not at all disturbed at having been caught while throwing them at his best and probably only friend.

Wilson sighed and took a handkerchief from his pocket wiping away the remnants of House' childish attack.

"What exactly made you think it would be a good idea to throw these to get my attention? Other people simply knock on the door, you know?" He stated half amused and half annoyed.

House raised an eyebrow and looked at him pointedly.

"Other people knock, Jimmy Boy. I wanted to use the pickles from my Rueben but unfortunately today was the day when the little power monger in the cafeteria decided to actually listen and not put them on it so I had to find an alternative thus coming up with these," he waved the little ball around dramatically and threw it at the glass next to Wilson where it stuck with a splashing noise and then slowly made its way downwards to the cold cement.

"If you ignore the colour and smell one could think they're real pickles, actually I'd bet a month's salary they taste exactly the same."

Having been around House long enough to read between the lines one thing immediately caught Wilson's attention.

"Wait, you're telling me you actually paid for your own lunch?" he asked amused.

House rolled his eyes and picked up another of the little white objects from his lap and attempted to drown this one as well but Wilson was faster. He snatched the cup from his friend and held it while eying his now pouting friend knowingly.

"Could it be that you didn't just pay for your own lunch but for the lunch of a certain white haired professor we both know as well?" he asked even though he already knew the answer.

House narrowed his eyes and got that 'I'm really annoyed with you right know look' which really wasn't much of a difference from his normal one.

"Well you know me and my never ending compassion for the sick and helpless, no wait, that's usually Cameron's job but my little runaway duckling seems to have gotten lost somehow on her vacation."

Wilson sighed again. There was the reason Cameron had requested the time off while House was away. The cranky diagnostician would have never agreed to work two whole weeks without her. He would have come up with some cheap excuses that wouldn't do so well under scrutiny and that would have resulted in arguing yelling and then some more yelling. At the end they would have ended up in Cuddy's office who would have threatened House with a double load of Clinic hours if he didn't grant his female fellow the time off.

It was House' way of dealing with the young ingénue doctor. Keeping her at arm lengths and when she tried to get closer he retreated but when she actually tried to distance herself from him he wouldn't let her.

They where stuck in a well-preserved limbo where they danced around each other without really moving in any direction.

"House, she just needed a vacation, a long one. I'm surprised she actually made it this long without having horrendous psychiatric bills to pay."

"I thought that was the reason why I keep you around. So you can satisfy your pathological need to meddle in other people's lives by playing Freud to my associates."

There wasn't much Wilson could hold against that argument so he said nothing.

"The reason I'm here is Clarke" he made a pause, Wilson assumed it was for the dramatic effect "asked for my help and since you're my friend and all you're helping, too." House stated and looked at him expectantly.

Repressing the urge to groan or state his annoyance at having to play sidekick to House' slightly crooked image of a hero again Wilson mentally submitted to his immediate fate.

"Ok, what exactly does he need help with?" he asked with a heavy sigh.

"Well, you see, it's like this…" and with these words House proceeded to explain the situation to a baffled Wilson whose eyes grew wider with every passing minute.

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Carefully balancing the bags with take out in one arm, Wilson knocked on the door to Houses' townhouse and waited for his friend to let him in. How he'd gotten roped into buying lunch for the three doctors he still wasn't sure but then House could be very persuading if he wanted. One of these days he would say no just to see how his cranky friend would react.

The door was pulled open and without looking who was on the other side, Wilson shoved the bags into small, warm and definitely feminine arms…wait, what?

Hastily he removed the food from his opponent again and took a first look just to be met with amused, sparkling blue eyes.

The wrong ones.

"Dr…Dr Cuddy? What are you doing here, I mean, it's great to see you, of course we see each other every day but…"

He stopped rambling when he noticed that she had yet to say anything and that he kind of, well…

"I'm sounding stupid, am I?" he asked chuckling at his own behaviour and she nodded in response.

"Don't worry, I guess you didn't expect me to be here. House said Clarke needed help and as a former student I was required to attend this, what did he call it? Secret meeting in House's house of horror, nice alliteration by the way."

Shaking his head, Wilson made his way past her into the kitchen where he ungracefully dumped the two bags. Cuddy followed him into the room.

"Why exactly are we here, by the way? House said to expect him in about half an hour and that you would fill me in before he and Clarke arrive." She asked curiously.

Wilson began to unpack the food for them while starting to explain the situation to the curious woman.

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So, hope you liked. And yay to longer chapters, maybe I make it past 2000 words with the next one. :-)


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